Inane Episode 2
The cantankerously inclined neighbour declined to participate in the eloquently phrased 'fly-a-kite-at-night' event. She hastened to point out with incredible speed a non-sequitur that separated reality from my left elbow. It only hurt a little bit.
Lilliputian aircraft carriers, while not welcome in my bathtub, allowed jet fighters to have a cup of tea. This was consumed, unlike the sausages they had at breakfast time, with ketchup and 300 thread count cotton shoe laces. The reason for this, as explained by Gary's second cousin twice removed Hank, was that, when faced with a decision between making a choice or coming to an independently verified conclusion, accumulations of lint and fog made the third least favourite gift of most people whose middle name's second letter isn't a vowel. Incidentally, I am not part of that group.
In other news, something is new.
A clandestine publicist remarked carefully to her coworker that it may have been sunny in the previous moment. This was derived from an observation so particularly inaccurate, that had she been a meteorologist, Tuesday would most certainly have come after Monday. Knowing the days of the week is about as helpful as a simile that serves no purpose. A porpoise, rarely mistaken for her sister, a Danish Landrace Goat, belched evocatively, sending the wren askew.
The wren, you may ask, plays exactly what part in this soliloquy? Ask away.
I'd complete this hub with something particularly clever if it wasn't for the fact that I did a terribly poor job of not preventing myself from completely avoiding the possibility of not stubbing my Islets of Langerhans.
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